


The Journal

by WeepingWillowsOfRed (SterekAndMarvelPhan)



Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV)
Genre: Alive Alex & Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bisexual Julie Molina, Bisexual Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), But he doesn't actually die, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, First Kiss, Hurt/Comfort, I require happy endings, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Journal, M/M, Pansexual Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Past Alex/Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Reggie Has ADHD (Julie and The Phantoms), Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27504571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterekAndMarvelPhan/pseuds/WeepingWillowsOfRed
Summary: Reggie has depression and decides to start keeping a journal other than his music one. Mistakes are made, promises are broken, and things get really hard, but Julie and the boys are there for their Reggie, even if he doesn't know it yet.
Relationships: Alex & Bobby | Trevor Wilson & Luke Patterson & Reggie, Alex & Luke Patterson & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex & Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms), Alex/Willie (Julie and The Phantoms), Flynn/Julie Molina, Luke Patterson/Reggie (Julie and The Phantoms)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 48





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Prologue. The journal entries are first person, because Reggie writes them, but the story itself will be in 3rd person. Please read the end notes.

November 11, 2020

The days are going by faster and faster, and today was just like any other. Why is it that sometimes I’m fine, not good, or great, but fine, and then other days, like today, I wanna die? I’ll just be going about my life, not doing much in this quarantined world, and then the thoughts will start creeping in. ‘You’re fat’, ‘No one loves you’, ‘You’re all alone’, ‘Worthless piece of shit’. I know these to be true, but I can’t let others know how I feel. It started just over a week ago, or maybe it started before that, when I officially moved back in with my parents back in May, who knows. What I do know, though, is that the depression started rearing its ugly head around once again just after Halloween. 

I had taken the little girl my parents are fostering Trick or Treating, and we had a great time. It was her first time going, and it’s always amazing to see how young kids go from confused and even a little hesitant, to excited and happy. We got home, organized the treats, and went to bed. I woke up the next day with a sore throat and a massive headache. I figured I had a cold and just took some medicine. I went about my day as normal, but the next day, I just slept. Now, that isn’t that unusual, but I was still feeling like crap, and my cough was getting worse. Not much happens between then and now, I’ve been sleeping all day, not eating, and just feeling like shit. My mother believes that I’m still just sick, and that’s what I want her to believe.

The Truth of it all is that I got better about three days later, my body working in my favour for once. The thing about me is that, when I get a cough, it stays with me for months, even after I feel better and am no longer sick. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not completely lying, I’m just not being truthful about what kind of sick that I am. I don’t have a cold or the flu, I have depression. Now, this isn’t new information, I was diagnosed with it when I was thirteen, (I am now twenty-two), and I have been in therapy my entire life, but that’s a story for another time. I was on a pretty strong dose of medication, but around two years ago I was feeling a lot better, and my doctor and I decided to lower the dosage. I hate to admit it, but I believe it’s time to go back to my original dose. The last week, I have been unable to get out of bed, and when I do, it’s usually to take a shower, or because my mother is worried about me. I have also stopped eating, almost completely. I’ve convinced mom that it’s because my stomach is upset, but that isn’t why. 

I’ve dealt with weight issues my entire life. My last therapist believes that it’s because I was starved as a child, and now, even though I don’t have to worry about where my next meal is coming from, subconsciously, I’m afraid that every meal I have is my last, and so I eat as much as I can, and rarely feel full. I also struggle with saying no to food, but lately, it’s been no trouble at all. In about eight months, I dropped 70lbs, going from 380 to 310, but I was unable to get below that number. At the beginning of this month, I weighed 315. Seven days later, I had dropped eleven pounds. I miss food, but my weight is the root of most of my anxiety and depression. No one can love me when I look like this, I’ll be alone forever. Sure, I have friends, but I doubt they actually like me. How could they, when I’m so ugly. I’ve never been in a relationship, nor have I even had my first kiss, though I am in love with one of my best friends.

Six days ago, I picked up my blade for the first time in months. I carved a few lines on either leg, including the words ‘fat’ and ‘ugly’, but the blade that I use is crap, it’s just one of those skinny little things that you get by tearing apart a razor. It does the job though, because as I was carving 70 new lines into my legs two nights ago, I knew I was getting what I deserved. I deserve pain, and hatred. I don’t deserve the friends that put up with me, or the parents who are allowing me to live rent free in their house. As a foster kid, most are kicked out of their homes by eighteen, but I got lucky, and I know that I have a really good life. Parents who care, even though they fight all the time, friends who put up with my bullshit, food on the table, roof over my head, a college education, etc… but I still hate myself. I still want to die a lot of the time. 

But like I said, I can’t let anyone know how I feel, so, I’ll just go back to faking a smile, pretending that everything is okay, because it should be. There are millions of people out there who have it way worse than I do, and I’m just being selfish. I’ll just keep smiling, making jokes, and playing our music, back to the Happy, dumb Reggie that everyone sees, and keep these thoughts hidden away. No one needs to know that under the ripped skinny jeans, and the colourful bracelets are hundreds of overlapping scars. No one needs to know that the weight loss is from starving myself. But most of all, no one needs to know that the smiles and jokes are hiding the burning desire to end it all and finally be in peace.

‘Till next time,  
Reggie


	2. Born to Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little look into Reggie's home life, and he writes a song.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song that Reggie writes is 'Born to Die', by Kelly Clarkson. A lot of the songs that will be featured are songs that I feel very connected to. Possible Trigger warning for mentions of emotional manipulation, and depression.

The day had started like every day had over the last ten years; screaming and the sound of glass breaking against walls. Curses and insults flow through the house, aimed towards each other, the world, and recently, him. This is what Reggie woke up to, and what he fell asleep to, even when he has his music as loud as it can go, it seems that the fighting would get louder along with it. All of this is just to say, today started just like every day, except, lately, it had become too much. He’s positive that it’s because his depression was much worse, and so his parents’ words cut so much deeper. He knows that they’re just worried about where his life is heading, they had put so much time into raising him, they just don’t want him to turn into a complete waste of their lives, and they want to make sure that he doesn’t become a useless part of society. He’s already such a burden on them, that he understands where they’re coming from. His depression has just made things worse, but they always get him the help he needs. He says that it’s because they love him, but there is a voice in the back of his head telling him that it’s something else. He always shakes those thoughts from his head when he has them; his parents love him, they took him in 19 years ago, when he was broken, and they stayed with him through everything, all the surgeries, the therapy, and the diagnoses. They told him they did it out of love, they had to be there for him because no one else should have to deal with him, but they would do it because they care, they will put up with all of his idiocies and uselessness.

Reggie shakes his head to try and focus, looks at the clock, and realises that it's only 4:30 in the morning. They were starting early today, or perhaps they were still at it, no way to know, as he had passed out early last night, before his father got home; this was the result of having been awake for 48 hours. Either way, he knew he wouldn’t be getting any more sleep, and thinks for a few moments about what to do. He really doesn’t want to stay and listen to how much of a burden he was, or whatever else they were fighting about, but he also knows it’s too early to go to any of his friends, not that he would want to bother them anyway. It's not like his parents fighting is anything new, and he can deal with it on his own, like always. After thinking a little longer, and remembered that he knew where the key to the studio was hidden, and he could go there. No one would question it, and he could get out of the house without bothering anyone. It was perfect, there was a pullout couch, and some extra clothes that all the boys kept in the loft, and he could take a shower, which always helped to calm his nerves.

With his mind made up, Reggie shoved his laptop, phone, charger, and his two journals into a backpack, made his way outside, and hopped onto his bike. He rode to the studio, thankful that it wasn’t yet to cold, and found the key. When he got inside, he realised that he was a lot more tired than he realised. Reggie decided to take a quick shower, and try and sleep for a few more hours. Once he was all dried off, he dresses in some sweatpants, and one of Alex’s hoodies, and lays on the couch. After twenty minutes of just lying there, he realises he’s too anxious to sleep, and decides to finish a song that he was working on. It wasn’t one that he would show his bandmates. First of all, it was country, and secondly, it was a little too close to home for him. Besides, he wasn’t the writer, that was Julie and Luke, he was just the bassist, who sometimes did background vocals, but it doesn’t matter, his songs are for him, so he sits up, and continues writing.

_ We don't hope for makin' things better  
All we want is to keep it together  
Every day is a rainy day, no changin' the weather  
This kind of life has made our hearts as hard as leather _

_ And all these tears are from the dust in our eyes  
And all these years just keep on passin' us by  
And all this misery makes it hard to deny  
We all know that we're just born to die  
That's the way it goes when you're just born to die _

_ I hear the voice of a whip-poor-will singin'  
She don't know all the comfort she's bringin'  
We all know the sound of when the truth is ringin'  
Yeah, it hurts your soul just like a bumble bee stingin' _

_ All these tears are from the dust in our eyes  
And all these years just keep on passin' us by  
And all this misery makes it hard to deny  
We all know that we're just born to die  
That's the way it goes when you're just born to die _

_ All these tears are from the dust in our eyes  
And all these years just keep on passin' us by  
And all this misery makes it hard to deny  
We all know that we're just born to die  
'Cause we all know that we're just born to die  
That's the way it goes when you're just born to die _

Looking at the lyrics, he grabs the banjo leaning against the couch and decides to try and add melody. He plays for what must be a few hours, because next thing he knows, it's light outside, and he feels like he could sleep for a week. He lays the banjo back where it was, packs his journal back up, and lays back down. He’s asleep in minutes, and for the first time in weeks, he slips into a dreamless sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you guys think. Criticisms are as welcome as compliments. Thanks so much for taking the time to read this, and I hope you guys like it.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time delving into writing for this fandom. Originally, I started writing tonight instead of something worse, and it started as me just needing to vent, but then I decided to make it into a fic, so that other people know that they aren't alone, that there are people you can talk to, myself included. The things that he wrote are mostly my thoughts, though to everything is the same. I have amazing parents, who I have actually never heard fight before, and I was already rejected by my friend, though that won't happen to Reggie because I require happy endings. I know that I have him as overweight in this fic, and that is because weight is the biggest stressor in my life, it will change, because, as I said, I require happy endings, but if that is something people really dislike, I could possibly change it to a different stressor. This story will be a coping mechanism for me, so I don't know when I will start it or update it, so for now I will post it as a one shot, and if people like it, I can add more.


End file.
